Fuck me.
I’d never understood Brando Fausti more than I did in this moment.
Being with Stella was turning me into a man even harder than the one I’d been before. It felt like she was walking around on dangerous ground with my heart in her hands. She’d give her life to save it (I knew she would, without a doubt), but I refused to let her. And that fire inside of me, for her only, was turning my resolve into igneous rock because my blood could run cold too.
What was the oddest thing about this all? If my heart had turned to ash before, it wouldn’t have mattered to me. I’d have given my life for a life that fulfilled me. But it felt like we’d exchanged hearts before we were born and didn’t know it until we spotted each other. Losing her would kill me without a wound on my skin or a disease in my body.
I sat up, put my feet on the cool wooden floor, and ran a hand down my face, then through my hair.
My feet could touch the floor from this mammoth-sized bed, but Stella’s couldn’t. We’d laughed about it earlier. Hers just dangled. A grin came to my face, and I turned to see her again. She was underneath the covers, almost hidden by them. The vintage-looking fan that mamma had sent over, the one Stella had found in the closet, was whirling. It made the small hairsaround her face wave, and sometimes, in her sleep, she’d reach up and tame them. They were probably tickling her skin.
My grin turned into a smile. This small being brought me so much pleasure, I couldn’t contain it. I went to reach out and set my hand on her hip, but I didn’t want to disturb her. I wrestled with the idea of going for a run, then going over the plans for one of the buildings, which we’d decided to turn into a workout room. Just like the one my old man had. Papà and his brothers, plus their men, were always using his. It would be fucking nice to have my own space, one where my brothers and I, and our men, could get together and do our thing.
I couldn’t leave her, though, and I’d never had a problem leaving anything or anyone for a run, or a swim, or a sparring match. Hard exercise always tamed the heat in my veins some.
Stella was doing that, while simultaneously stoking it.
A quiet cry made my neck feel like a cold ghost had touched it, then all the hairs on my arms stood up. I turned a little, and if I wouldn’t have heard it, I would have thought I was fucking imagining it. Stella looked peaceful, but when she turned some, stuffing her face into the pillow and making the same chilling noise, I knew it was for real. My heart couldn’t bear to hear it again. I scooped her up and held her body as close to mine as possible. My skin felt like a furnace compared to hers, which felt so cool to the touch.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she just gazed at me.
It was a look empty of life, and my heart started to beat overtime. It felt like there wasn’t a breath in my chest to take. I forced the feeling to the back and shook her.
“Ha-a-a-ah?” Her voice was laced with warm sleep, but that cold look was still in her eyes. “Wh-y- wh-y- why a-a-areee y-y-you sh-sh-shaking meeeee?”
I stopped. “Tell me,” I said.
“Tell you….” She rubbed her eyes, and the frozen look seemed to start defrosting. “Tell you what?”
“You were crying in your sleep.”
She didn’t say anything, and instead of holding my gaze, she looked toward the bathroom. “I have to pee really bad,” she whispered.
She went to crawl out of my arms, but I picked her up, carrying her there. After I set her down on the toilet to do her business, I waited right outside of the door, refusing to give her more privacy than that. When she came out, I could tell her mood had changed from when she’d first fallen asleep.
She touched my arm. “You’re trembling,” she whispered.
“The look in your eyes, I didn’t like it. I don’t fucking like the cold I’m feeling.”
She tried to wrap her hand around my arm, but she only got halfway. She squeezed. “A bad dream, Matteo,” she whispered. “I never slept hard enough to get them when that woman had me. I was living a nightmare instead of dreaming about it.”
“And now that you’re sleeping, you’re reliving the nightmare.”
“Something like that.” Her voice was so soft, her breath caressed my skin and made goosebumps rise. “I’m not in the room she locked me in. I’m on an island. All alone. But it’s cold. So cold. And…I keep crying for you, but I can’t find you.”
I picked her up and held her close. “I’ll always find you,” I vowed. “Just like I did before.”
“I know.” She touched the side of my face, and her stomach made an angry noise.
“You’re hungry.” I didn’t wait for her to agree. I started for the kitchen. I could feel her eyes on me as I walked. Occasionally, she’d run her hand down my face, just to feel me, it seemed. If I could tattoo the feel of her, I fucking would. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before. Soft. Cool. Tender. Made for me.
Setting her down on the counter, I looked through the cabinets and then went to the fridge. Mamma had sent over a few things with a promise to visit the next day. I took out eggs, flour, butter, and a few other things to make pancakes and scrambled eggs. Stella watched me with what seemed like awe in her eyes. It was the same look she got when she’d laid eyes on this place.
“Tell me,” I said.
“Oh.” She smiled, but I could tell it hurt her. She was still trying to shake the cold from the dream. “I didn’t realize you could cook.”
I shrugged, flipping the pancake in the air. She clapped when it landed flat in the pan. “Mamma is a good cook, and sometimes, I’d want to give her a break. I’d wake up earlier than her and destroy her kitchen.”
